Old Enough
I get up early cause I know Pearl will make biscuits, eggs, and crisp bacon and let me lick the warm salty lard with my fingers from the skillet once it cools off. I watch her go "mmmm, mmmm" and squeeze her lips into a smile. She starts the percolator for Paw-Paw, pours me a big glass of ice cold milk and stands over me saying, "drink it down." Pearl always makes hard things seem easy, not so good days feel okay and I wish she were my Momma. We don't look the same but if she asked me to be her child I'd be the luckiest girl alive. She pulls my fingers out of my mouth, " you get worms now, hear me?" I most definitely don't want worms so I am really trying to stop chewing my nails. Pearl's nails are always clean, trimmed, with a clear, shiny gloss. Her lips are full, ripe, like a fresh dark purple plum. She has fine teeth, big hazel eyes and wears tiny gold studs in each earlobe. I want earrings, but the thought of a needle being pushed though my ear doesn't sound like it's worth the trouble, at least right now. I would like some tap shoes though. Pearl laughs when I tell her about my dancing dreams. She says I have happy feet cause I am wiggling my toes all the time. When Paw-Paw goes out on the porch to smoke his pipe I always show him my latest moves. After breakfast, Pearl starts washing our sheets and says there is a dust bunny under my bed. I don't want to look. I scare myself enough just looking at hobos. Anyway, back to the railroad. Just can't help myself. I don't curse, smoke, steal or commit sins that I know of, but I can tell you right here and right now, hobos teach and preach more than any one body needs. I confess I became on friendly terms with a man named Hank. He'd wave and say, " Hey, May! Keep smilin' kiddo!" and he'd sometimes be laying in the shade right calm when I snuck up to see him. He always looked sad just before he caught sight of me. Soon as my big trap started jabbering he'd change like a chameleon. That is, he'd try to make life seem so fine. I new he was hungry. I started taking biscuits on the days I figured he'd be around and he was always obliged. Just like the song, Mr. Bojangles, I began to show off my dancing moves to cheer ole Hank up. How is it we just know someone isn't happy? He laughed and smiled; in my mind he had a harmonica or some groovy steps he'd show me, but he never did. When the rest of the jumpers, as he referred to his fellow train hopping hobos as, came around he'd shoo me off. He told me in a kind, yet tough way to go on home. Where Hank went I never knew; in my heart I liked to hold it was somewhere much better than the hard ass dirt he slept on, full of God only knows what, and lonesome nights with an empty belly and mosquitos. Back home, I'm hosed down. Pearl gives me a hard stare; I am guessing she is guessing where the heck I've been. I am full of cockleburs, red from the sun. She leaves Paw-Paw and me my favourite, whipped cream and orange jello. I always hug her when she heads back to the place she calls home; I will make sure that this summer I follow Pearl like a cat stalks, curious that is, not aiming to find trouble. Late, when Paw-Paw is loving his heap of second helpings from supper, I ease out from my bedroom and stand right in front of the late night news. Paw-Paw's old Grandpa eyes widen and I start dancing; I pretend to tap dance and point my toes toward the ceiling fan, clap my hands and fall onto the thick, Persian patterned carpet. Paw-Paw laughs with his belly bouncing. I guess for now, summer is getting off to a good start. I slink down the long hallway and slither into bed. I wonder where Hank is now; Memphis, Baton Rouge, New Orleans? By now, hobos, I mean, jumpers, could be anywhere. I say out loud as if I am praying, "Goodnight jumper Hank; goodnight Pearl". I wiggle my toes one more time, roll over toward the moon shining through my window and smile.
Comments (29)
pretty much the norm for you H2, that is “fantastic”, love it ❤️
But rust is real. Wow! This is powerful and I loved it ❤️🕊️✨
Fantastic poem Heather, I love this idea of armor
Here is your episode https://vocal.media/humans/episode-4-love-and-fall-poems
Ooh, I love this!
Inspiration comes from strange places, doesn't it? Things can break down and become something restrictive rather than protective. Very thoughtful.
Creative and magnificently written!!! Loved it!!!❤️❤️💕
What a gorgeous and powerful piece, Heather. The armor intended for protection becomes entrapment. Your poetry is so incredible! 💫💞
Oh, friend! What a marvelous and powerful idea! This put such an image in my mind. I loved the afterward too - I love it when ideas come out of nowhere like that! Sending hugs 🥹❤️
I loved this so much. Can I read it on the podcast???
Sending hugs for this, powerful words
This was powerful, Heather! I love how your poetry is always so thought-provoking. Nice job!
So 'H-H' ~ Who doesn't have thoughts like this at the Dentist? ~ 'J'
Excellent poetry indeed 👍
Whoaaa, you did such an awesome job with this concept! It's so poignant and deep! I loved it so much!
Always love reading your pieces.
Love this Heather. I feel like so many people are fighting battles. Those of us in the middle are being dragged in and forced to put on armor we did not sign up for. Hope that makes sense. ❤️
Great Poem Heather, your words invoke such vivid imagery. I was touched, thanks for sharing!
I find this so much deeper than armor. Like the rib cage that shields vital organs from harm, and the breastbone that shields the heart, I saw how this was so much protection from harm, and yet so like prison, that so much war and pain keeps us from breaking free for the fear of what peril might wait. You should hang out in the dentist's waiting room more often because this one was off the chain(mail?)
Wow. Another amazing poem from the Empress. "No use worry about integrity......" that whole thing paints suchba vivid picture. Excellent work, my friend.
O know armor like that ! Great imagery Heather. Excellent poem. 🥰
This is such a captivating read. Love the analogy!
Here's to doctor's office inspiration, research and a little elbow grease to create a wonderful extended metaphor!
👀Great job 💖📝✌️😉👌
Some people tend to use blackmail as a form of armor. Yet, in the end, they become reliant upon it. Like a sword who's hilt is a blade, such a device only perceives to harm them in the end. Armor may seem protective, but it's also limiting in our movements, in our speech, in our outputs of energy. Without the armor we would be free, but also vulnerable. Sometimes though, the price of vulnerability is worth the freedom. Sad to say, but some people must wear armor to protect others from their own freedom, from their own strength, from their own words. Their freedom harms and infringes upon the freedom of others. It may seem pretty in the beginning, but defensive walls that one builds all always corrode in the face of time. We've become pitiful when what was meant to protect us, harms us in the end due to its hindrance.